


Good to Be Spoiled Right About Now (Hallelujah)

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Not Stiles or Jackson), Coitus Interruptus, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Established Relationship, Food Poisoning, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic of Music, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate & Jackson Whittemore are Siblings, Minor Lydia Martin/Malia Tate, Music Teacher Stiles Stilinski, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: The Beacon Hills Elite Choir is performing in NYC. Stiles directs, his daughter sings, and Jackson's along for the ride. How chaotic could it be? Well, someone's going to be spoiled....
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101
Collections: Full Moon Ficlet Prompt #356: Spoil





	Good to Be Spoiled Right About Now (Hallelujah)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisnewjoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisnewjoe/gifts).

> This is a thank you fic, because words are my currency. Thank you to Joe for all the wonderful support. This is also a fill for the fullmoon prompt Spoil. I am pretty sure this is not the fic anyone expected for the prompts of Stackson, Spoil, and Field Trip. Hell, it's not what I thought I was writing until I sat down to write it.
> 
> Once again, I took a word and tried to see how many times I could work it into a fic and in how many different meanings.
> 
> As a warning: people get food poisoning (not Stiles or Jackson) and there are discussion of illness. 
> 
> If you want to see how the relationships work in this fic (past ships, current ships, and who are Mimi's biological parents), please see the end note.

“Mr. Stilinski, it’s only eight o’clock!” Jaden holds the door open, and Stiles resists pushing harder to get it closed. That would be rude, and Stiles isn’t that teacher.

Even if he’s exhausted and kind of wants to be right now.

“That’s west coast time. It’s after eleven here on the east coast,” he points out, doing his best to keep his voice even. “And we will be knocking on every door at seven tomorrow, Eastern time, which your brain will be telling you is four in the morning, so you’d better get some sleep between then and now.”

“But Mr. Stilinski—”

“Aren’t you tired?” Stiles asks before he thinks better of it. “We were on a bus at three this morning. You should be exhausted.” Because he is. So very exhausted.

Another door clicks open down the hall and Stiles groans inwardly. This is like playing whack-a-mole. Every time he manages to get one group of kids locked into their hotel room, another group pops up.

“Dad?”

Oh.

“Bed, now,” he says sternly to Jaden, and this time when he pushes, the door closes. Stiles peels off a piece of tape and puts it over the seam of the door, hating that he has to do it, but it’s school policy. He raps once on the door. “You’re taped. Unless it’s an absolute emergency—like a fire alarm goes off—don’t leave this room until we come get you in the morning. Pulling a fire alarm is grounds for suspension, plus you’ll lose your spot on the team.” In the choir. Squad. Whatever the hell they’re calling it these days.

There’s a chorus of frustrated agreement and Stiles marks on his checklist that he now has eight out of ten rooms locked in, then he finally turns to where Mimi is standing in the doorway. She’s in her PJs, her long hair pulled back in a loose braid, and she’s wearing the socks with Lady Liberty adorning the side that she picked up at a cheesy shop earlier that day. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Not a kid,” she says, the door in her hand moving slightly as she pulls on it.

“Not eighteen yet and still need a chaperone for a field trip, therefore still a kid,” Stiles counters.

“Dad, when you were my age—”

Stiles holds up a finger. “Not a valid argument, and not in the hallway of a hotel,” he says. This is definitely not the place for a pack history lesson.

She rolls her eyes.

He stops at the ninth room, knocks on the door. “Lights out,” he calls, bracing for pushback. He’s pleasantly surprised when this group lets him tape the door without incident and he can move on to the last room. The room that his daughter is sharing with two of her best friends.

He stops in front of her, smiles slightly. “Lights out, kiddo.”

“Are we still meeting up with Aunt Lydia tomorrow?” she counters.

“Your papa will be taking the kids interested in shopping for the day and Lydia’s coming in to help him, yes, but you can’t entirely monopolize her time or wander off on your own,” Stiles counters. “We’re taking everyone else to the Museum of Natural History. Which you would enjoy.”

Mimi raises both eyebrows, and Stiles is reminded that despite bearing the name Stilinski-Whittemore, she really is a Hale. She speaks fluent eyebrow, and relies on her favorite uncle Derek to practice silent eyebrow conversations with her because he does it better than her papa ever will. “Maybe,” she draws out the word in a tone that says she might regret missing it. “But Aunt Lydia will spoil me unmercifully and I am not going to miss that opportunity.”

Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose. “Miriam Talis Stilinski-Whittemore, you are turning into a—”

“Yep, I’m a spoiled brat,” she says cheerfully, cutting him off with a quick hug and kiss on his cheek. “You can’t say a word. Didn’t you just buy me socks and a hoodie and a cute baseball hat today? And Papa will try to outdo Aunt Lydia tomorrow, which’ll be awesome.”

“You’re taking advantage of them,” Stiles mutters. He squeezes her hard, then nudges her back into her room. “Go to bed, kiddo. I’m taping you guys in.”

Behind Mimi’s shoulders, he sees Lauren raise one hand in acknowledgement. He’s pretty sure Dalia is already asleep in the other bed.

“At least I know I’m spoiled, and I’m smart enough to take advantage of the fact that Papa’s so competitive.” She wiggles her fingers, smirking. “Sleep well, Dad. Give Papa a kiss goodnight for me.”

Stiles places the tape as soon as the door is closed, marks off the final room on his list, and moves one more door down the hall.

When he knocks, the woman who answers is tiny. Lily stands barely five feet tall, looking up at him and frowning before she pulls her glasses off the top of her head and blinks when he comes into focus. “Oh,” she says. “Are they are asleep?”

“Doubt it.” Stiles glances back at the doors. “But they’ve all had the lights out speech, and the doors are taped, and they’re overall a good group of kids. I think they’re set for the night. You’re going to handle the wakeup call, right?”

“Right,” Lily agrees. The look she gives the closed doors along the hall is slightly wary, and Stiles is positive that she’s overheard more than one of the conversations he had while checking for lights out.

He lowers his voice, one hand on her shoulder. “Remember, Lily, you are the adult.”

“I am the adult,” she echoes, and he’d almost believe her except he can’t remember ever sounding that young at twenty-two. She’s almost ready to graduate college, and she’s a student teacher, and Stiles still thinks of her as one of his kids.

Hell, at that age he had an accidental kid and a lot of temper issues, and he’d grown up far faster than intended six years before.

That’s why he hates when Mimi says, “when you were my age,” because he never wants her to know what life was like then. She should be a normal kind of sixteen.

“If you need anything, just knock on mine and Jackson’s door,” Stiles directs.

Lily’s ears go pink. “Right. I don’t want to interrupt, but if something comes up—”

“I’m the faculty in charge of this trip, so yes, interrupt me if you need to,” Stiles says firmly.

It’s not that he wants to be interrupted. In fact, after chaperoning several trips over the years, he’s pretty sure he won’t be interrupted. This is the furthest they’ve ever traveled for one of Mimi’s trips, but at the same time, these are a good group of kids. They’re far more interested in music than in chaos, and Stiles appreciates that about them.

Lily ducks back into her room, and Stiles heads one to the door across the hall. He unlocks it, then lets it slam behind him as he falls face first onto the bed. “This only gets harder,” he mutters into the comforter.

Jackson’s weight makes the mattress dip, and his hand is a warm comfort against the back of Stiles’s neck. “Are we talking about the field trip or your dick?” he asks quietly, and Stiles huffs a laugh.

Stiles pushes himself up so he can roll over, ending up on his back, sprawled in the middle of the king size bed. Jackson straddles him, hands on Stiles’s shoulders until Stiles cradles his head, dragging him down for a kiss. Jackson stretches out then, half on Stiles and half off, hand cupping his face. Jackson kisses slow and soft, teasing Stiles’s mouth open and tasting him thoroughly before he moves on to map his sensitive jaw and leave a bruise on his throat.

“Someone’s going to see that tomorrow,” Stiles mumbles. He nudges at Jackson, but doesn’t push too hard, and when Jackson’s mouth fastens over the skin, Stiles arches into the touch.

“They know we’re married,” Jackson murmurs, nuzzling his collarbone. “Pretty sure they suspect we’re enjoying our hotel room to the fullest. They don’t need to know I had to bring a gag just to make sure no one hears—”

Stiles pushes himself to sitting, and Jackson pulls back.

“You did not,” Stiles says.

Jackson quirks his eyebrow. “Should I get it out? I was thinking that if I gag you, I could go down on you and finger you, edge you until you want to scream and can’t. See if I could keep you from coming for at least an hour before I fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

Stiles thanks the fact that he’s almost forty for the fact that Jackson’s words don’t bring him to that edge immediately. “That—”

“Sounds like a great idea, Jackson?” Jackson prompts, and Stiles just nods, because at this moment, he doesn’t trust his words.

It sounds like a kind of stupid idea, but it wouldn’t be the riskiest thing they’ve ever done. Besides. There are ten rooms of sleeping teens, and one room with a student teacher who is the first line of defense if any of the teens need anything.

What kind of trouble could a bunch of chorus kids get into, anyway? It’s not like they’re going to be hearing dead people or chasing hallucinations in the corridors.

Stiles loves being manhandled by his husband. Jackson places Stiles exactly where he wants him, lays him out with a towel underneath his ass so neither of them has to sleep in the wet spot. The gag fits comfortably and Stiles breathes around it, in through the nose and out through the mouth. His hands are still free, but his words are muffled, and with luck, no one will hear a peep out of them.

Stiles has always been the noisy one, whereas Jackson can be silent. Stiles has known this for a long time, ever since their first ill-advised blow job in the locker room showers where no one had any idea what was going on.

They’ve come a long way since those early days of a not-quite-relationship. Married for sixteen years, parents for seventeen. It may have taken Stiles several years to figure out which twin he should be dating, but once they got it sorted out, he and Jackson ended up being the most stable relationship in the pack.

They know each other so well now, can map every possible spot on each other’s bodies.

And Jackson takes Stiles apart like a master playing the piano. He starts at the top, nibbling at his throat until Stiles is whining in short, muffled sounds, his fingers tangled in Jackson’s hair, trying to push him lower. But Jackson stops partway down, pinching one of Stiles’s nipples while mouthing at the other. Sucking, pulling, biting until Stiles arches up into the touch, his cry trapped by the gag.

Jackson leans up and smirks. “What?”

Stiles jabs a finger down his body. “Sk mm ck,” he tries to order, and Jackson laughs quietly, strokes him once from root to tip.

“Like this?” Jackson whispers. “Or is this what you want?”

Stiles has no idea when he got the lube out or how he got it on his fingers, but Jackson’s hand is slippery and he starts right in with two fingers, stretching Stiles with a pleasant burn. Stiles pushes back against him, trying to talk around the gag, babbling about how fucking perfect Jackson’s hands and mouth are as Jackson swallows his dick.

He loses time after that, riding a high of fucking into Jackson’s warm mouth and being fucked by his fingers. Jackson strokes his prostate, then withdraws. He adds more lube until Stiles feels sloppy wet and well-opened, desperate for more friction.

And every time Stiles is close to orgasm, Jackson pulls back and stills his finger. The cool air hits Stiles’s dick and it spurts just a little, the final orgasm held at bay.

Fuck fuck fuck, he just wants to come.

He tilts his hips, and Jackson slowly slides three fingers in, stretching him wide.

Stiles groans around the gag.

A soft rap sounds against the door.

Jackson stops, his mouth closed around the tip of Stiles’s dick. Stiles can feel his heart pounding hard in his chest as the knock comes again, a little more certain. “Mr. Stilinski?” Lily’s voice calls out. “Stiles?”

Stiles makes an ineffectual noise, and Jackson releases him, rising up to undo the gag. Stiles makes a face as he wiggles his lips and tongue, trying to get everything back into working order. “Yes, Lily?” His voice is tight, and he hopes she’ll attribute that to being woken up, not the fact that Jackson has three fingers deep in his ass again and is twisting them in just the right way.

“I, uh—” She cuts off, coughing.

Stiles bites his lip, holding in the groan when Jackson swallows him down again. Fuck, straight into his throat, and Jackson is looking up at him, smirking around Stiles’s dick.

Stiles grips Jackson’s hair, holds him lightly as he fucks up, smiling when Jackson lets him. “What is it?” Stiles calls out, and it’s so fucking hard to do two things at once.

He is so fucking hard. He feels like he could come any second if he weren’t distracted by having a conversation through the door.

“It’s Lauren,” Lily says quickly. “And Jaden. And Matthew. They’re… well… they’re throwing up. And no, they haven’t had any alcohol. I checked. Mimi and Dalia said that those three are the only ones that had the scallops tonight, and well, that’s possible. That the scallops were spoiled, and they’ve got a bit of food poisoning.”

If Stiles weren’t throat deep in Jackson’s mouth, his dick would definitely deflate at that image.

Jacksons’s finger on his prostate is making sure that he’s still at full attention, though.

Stiles fakes a loud yawn. “Give me—give me five minutes. I need to get out of bed. Find a shirt,” he says, like he’s not naked and in the middle of getting fingered and blown by his husband.

“Five minutes,” Lily echoes. “I’ll just. I’ll tell them to shower. There’s um. It’s a bit of a mess.”

Gross.

“Five minutes,” Stiles confirms.

Jackson holds still, waiting, for several breaths. The moment his finger moves again, stroking Stiles’s prostate, Stiles knows that Lily must be down the hall already and out of earshot. Stiles holds on to Jackson’s hair with one hand, pulling roughly while he shoves the back of his other fist into his mouth. He comes with a muffled shout in only two more strokes, filling Jackson’s mouth until it spills out around the corners.

When Jackson kisses him, Stiles tastes himself on his tongue.

“Go help the kids,” Jackson murmurs against his ear. “You know Mimi’s a sympathetic—”

Ew.

“Don’t say it.” Stiles feels like every muscle has gone limp in the aftermath of that. He glances at his phone—they’d been going for almost an hour before Lily knocked. No wonder he feels rung out. “Let me just go get cleaned up and—”

“No.” Jackson covers Stiles’s hand. “Leave yourself lubed and just put on clothes because when you get back here, I still plan to fuck you into the mattress,” he whispers.

Stiles glances at Jackson’s still very hard dick. “Right then. That’s not at all a distraction.”

But he wipes down his chest, then hunts around and finds a pair of sweats to pull on over his PJ pants. At least decent once he puts a t-shirt on, then he heads out to help.

It’s a solid two hours before he has the kids settled and the puke fest has finished. It’s almost definitely the scallops; a little detective work narrows it down and he’s proud of Mimi for deducing it that fast. Maybe she’ll follow her grandfather into solving crime instead of aiming to become a Broadway prima donna.

Nah. Who does he think he’s fooling? He should’ve known that when he gravitated back to music that his kid would follow in his footsteps. And unlike him, she’s good enough to make it, too.

He spends a little more time with Mimi’s room than he means to, and it’s been almost three hours before he creeps into his dark hotel room. He undresses carefully in the bathroom and washes up for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s just about to head back to the bed when Jackson is behind him, pressing him against the counter, his hard dick settled into the sticky crack of Stiles’s ass.

“Missed you,” Jackson murmurs, just before he bites the back of Stiles’s neck.

They fuck in the bathroom, where it’s easy to clean up after. It’s quick and hard and still so very satisfying, and Stiles hopes that after another fifteen years it’s still this good.

When they curl around each other in the bed after, Jackson tucks his head onto Stiles’s chest, his hand over his heart. “Wasn’t going to let a little food poisoning spoil our night,” he mumbles, and Stiles kisses the top of his head.

It’s been a long night, but he definitely appreciates the sentiment.

#

No one is happy in the morning. Lily bangs on Stiles’s door at ten past seven to let him know that the kids are moving slowly and she needs help. Stiles wrangles them all and reminds them that if they don’t make it down to breakfast by eight, there won’t be breakfast at all. Two of the boys get snappish, and Stiles snarks back that they’re all a little sleep-deprived here and he expects them to act like the almost adults that they are and represent the Beacon Hills Elite Choir properly tonight.

They’re all quiet through breakfast. Lauren, Jaden, and Matthew pick at their food, but Stiles is relieved to see them all eating at least a little (and none of it coming back again later).

There’s a brief spate of noise as another group of high school age kids storms through the restaurant. They descend on the buffet like locusts, taking huge plates and gravitating together on the other side of the room. Their identical jackets declare them the Haverhill Songbirds and Mimi makes a small, irritated noise at them.

Stiles glances at her, and Jackson arches a single eyebrow.

“They should’ve gone with the black jackets and yellow trim,” Mimi mutters. “Yellow with black trim implies that they’re bees, not birds.”

“They could be goldfinches,” Dalia muses. “Bright yellow birds with black feathers. It works.”

Mimi gives her a dark look. “You are uninvited from the shopping trip.”

“No, I’m not, because you love me.” Dalia leans in, presses her cheek to Mimi’s.

Mimi nuzzles her back, rubbing her cheek along Dalia’s. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I do.”

Oh, shit.

Jackson growls softly under his breath, and Stiles looks at him. This is apparently a discussion for later. It’s not that Mimi and Dalia might be something more than best friends; Stiles really doesn’t care who she dates.

It’s the pack behavior. He doesn’t know if Dalia’s picked that up from how Mimi acts, or if there has been knowledge shared. The latter could get problematic, even if they do trust Mimi’s friends. It’s where the knowledge could go after that that could be an issue.

Jackson pulls Stiles close, presses a kiss to his temple. “I’ll keep an eye on them while we’re out,” he murmurs. “Lydia’s coming to the performance tonight. She said there’s a slim possibility that Malia might make it, but she couldn’t make any promises. I’ll see you for dinner.”

Right, time to get this crowd on the road.

Stiles stands up, claps his hand; his students look blearily at him. Lily’s no better than they are, her eyes dark with lack of sleep. “Okay. Ten of you signed up to go with Jackson today on a whirlwind shopping tour of the city. I promise you, whirlwind is the right word, and you should expect to move quickly. Keep up, don’t get lost. You’ll be meeting up with your second chaperone at an undisclosed location that Jackson refuses to tell me because it’s a surprise for Mimi. I’ll see you guys at an early dinner, and you’re going to miss out on the best part of the trip.”

The kids stare at him blankly.

“The Museum of Natural History,” Stiles says, spreading his hands. “Dinosaur! Best filming location for multiple movies! Special music exhibit! How can you miss this?”

Mimi stands up, settling her crossbody purse against her hip. “Shopping with Aunt Lydia,” she replies before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I promise, I’ll mind Papa and I’ll make sure everyone else does, too. No one will eat scallops, and we’ll all be bright and shiny-eyed for dinner.”

Stiles mock scowls at her. “How can you be my child and missing the museum?” he sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine. Just be ready to perform later!”

He rounds up the remaining twenty kids to go with him and Lily to the museum, and he knows it’s going to be worth it. Mimi doesn’t know what she’s missing.

When he gets a text a half hour later, with an image of Dalia curled against Mimi on the subway, her mouth slightly open in sleep as Mimi stares at her, besotted, he saves the image to his phone. _Already sent it to Malia,_ Jackson sends. _She looks more like her every day._

She does, Stiles thinks, and she doesn’t at the same time. Malia and Jackson share enough features that Mimi confuses people who notice that she looks like both her fathers. _At least Mimi was raised by civilized wolves,_ Stiles counters.

_I’m telling Malia you said that._

Stiles swallows a laugh. _Go ahead. I’ve said it to her face often enough. Doesn’t mean we love her less._

#

The best part about the museum is that it gives Stiles a chance for a break. They started the morning as a group, visiting the special exhibition on music in the natural world, then following it up by seeing the current film “The Nature of Music” which included compositions inspired by patterns in space and nature.

Since then, the kids have had the run of the museum, with strict instructions to meet again at half past three so they can walk two blocks to their dinner reservation. They have to eat early; their performance is at seven that night, and they still need to get changed and get there early enough to warm up.

Stiles is glad the kids are on their own for the moment. He can let the twist of nerves in his stomach have full reign while they’re distracted. They don’t need to see him panic.

He has about a half hour before the kids meet up, so he sits in the special exhibit on one of the benches with his eyes closed, letting the background music wash over him. He hums under his breath, sorting out melodies, sifting through them to find the pieces that blend. Music has a magic all its own, and he feels it buzzing under his skin.

“It’s up here!”

Stiles is deep enough in the drift that he’s imagining things, because that sounds like his kid. Who is with Jackson, shopping and being spoiled unmercifully by Lydia.

Fresh footsteps enter the exhibit, a sudden cacophony of voices. Yes, he’s imaging Mimi’s voice mixed in with this group. There are just so many of them, easily a dozen distinct sounds.

He starts sifting them into slots in his mind, categorizing them by vocal part, by cadence, by the drift from the patterns still singing around him.

The cushion on the bench dips next to him as a warm body sits too close.

“You’re glowing,” Jackson murmurs.

Stiles’s eyes open abruptly, and he wrestles the tingling under his skin into submission. “Am not.”

Jackson huffs, grinning. “You were. And you probably will be on stage tonight, too, but we’ll blame the lights for that.”

The residual music sings beneath his skin, and Stiles reaches out, cradles Jackson’s head as he leans into a kiss, luxuriating in the taste of him.

“Honestly,” Mimi says. “Aunt Lydia, this is why I was annoyed when Dad got snarky because I kissed Dalia.”

Jackson pulls back enough to say, “In my defense, it wasn’t that you kissed Dalia. It was that you didn’t bother to mention the shift in relationship status to us.”

“Eh. We’re still best friends. There’s just more now.” Mimi shrugs and walks away.

Stiles catches the glint of something on her wrist as she reaches for Dalia’s hand. On both their wrists. His gaze narrows and he glares at Jackson. “Just how much did you spoil our daughter?”

“Me? Oh no, that one was all Malia,” Jackson says. “Apparently an appropriate apology for missing your daughter’s concert at Rockefeller Center is to buy her and her best friend slash girlfriend slash snuggle mate is to buy them matching ‘diamond chip bestie bracelets’.”

Stiles can almost hear the quotes in Jackson’s voice. “What?”

“It’s Malia,” Jackson says, spreading his hands. “She doesn’t know what to do with money other than spending it, and Lydia only lets her have an allowance anyway so she can’t possibly cause trouble by spending it.”

“Except by spoiling our kid and her whatever she is,” Stiles mutters, his words stolen when Jackson kisses him again.

“Except for that,” Jackson agrees.

#

They take the stage at 9:13 PM, the ninth group to appear since the show began at just past seven, and the final choral group of the evening. They had given their notes to the lighting crew and had had one chance to run through the motions of their set during rehearsal the prior afternoon, when everyone was tired from the trip. Today they’ve been touring all day and emotions are running high with excitement.

No more puking, at least, not even from nerves, even if Stiles’s stomach is twisted up with nervous butterflies at the moment.

The stage is perfectly dark, but Stiles knows that the one person who needs to see him has more than enough ambient light to see him when he takes his position to the side. They’ve staged this so he can conduct without blocking the audience’s view, so he can be unobtrusive and let his kids shine.

He hums a note softly, relying on his own perfect pitch. Mimi inherited that talent as well and doesn’t need the cue, but it makes them both feel better, and no one else can hear their little ritual.

Mimi’s voice is crystal clear, ringing out into the darkness, the lights rising with her words as she sings the first lines of the Hallelujah Chorus. The rest of the group joins her on the next lines, and the light shines down on his choir, dressed in formal black robes, standing in mixed formation, their hands held cupped in front of them as if they held books.

It’s peaceful and sweet and classic for a solid minute, until they hold the last hallelujah, letting the note sing out, Mimi’s voice rising above the others as they fade. They leave her in the center, the spotlight shining down as she raises her arms, and the rest of the chorus pulls at their robes, stripping them off and tossing them to the sides. Jaden and Matthew set up the rolling percussion beat as the entire chorus starts jumping. Darius strides out, hitting the first few notes of “Hum Hallelujah” solidly while Mimi disappears in the background to lose her robes as well.

His kids are in jeans and black t-shirts, each one emblazoned with _Shine a Beacon_ on the back in rhinestones, and a sparkling heart over their heart in the front. Darius solos through the opening, but they all join in on the chorus, singing through the second verse before the percussion that rolls beneath the words shifts and changes, and the spotlight shifts to where Dalia stands opposite Stiles.

Everyone goes silent, leaving Darius to sing the first two lines of the chorus on his own. He gets to the words, “It was just how you looked in the light,” and Stiles signals for a sharp cut-off, pointing at Dalia who comes in with, “Somehow, everything’s gonna fall right into place.”

Somehow, some time when Stiles wasn’t paying attention, his kids changed their choreography. As they sing through Paramore’s “Hallelujah,” Dalia moves across the stage, and when she sings, “Let’s make it last forever,” she’s standing right in front of Mimi.

They grin at each other, and Stiles keeps conducting as Mimi grabs Dalia and swings her around, the choir taking up the slack in the sound.

They’re having fun with this, and it shows.

The shift to Panic! at the Disco is abrupt, as Bryant pushes to the front, singing out, “All you sinners stand up sing hallelujah.” The chorus follows him in a mob, following him, shouting, singing with him every time he says hallelujah. But the time he reaches the final chorus, they are back in their original formation, but this time all pretense of formality has fallen away as they dance in place, hands raised, clapping to the beat singing, “Say your prayers! Say your prayers! Say your prayers!”

Soft percussion, Jaden and Matthew hidden among the crowd. Clapping from those who are visible as the beat shifts again, before half the chorus sings out, “Uh-huh.”

“It’s good to be alive, right about now,” Darius sings, and the rest of the chorus joins in. Stiles’s hands move faster, keeping up with the shift in pace, the sudden bouncing as his choir finds energy from somewhere, he has no idea where. This is the fifth song in the medley, and they are well more than five minutes into their performance, probably closer to seven, and this is one of two songs that they’ll sing most of. It’s high energy, the entire group singing and dancing together. Haven and and Lauren do flips, and it’s a joyous, happy moment.

When it ends, there’s a soft, low hum emanating from the stage, rising slowly in volume. Mimi steps forward in the center, Dalia to her right, and Darius to her left. They pass the lyrics of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” back and forth in slow motion, singing as if they were one person, each holding a line for a moment before it flows to the next singer.

Mimi says they’ve practiced this a thousand times, and Stiles isn’t sure that’s an exaggeration. He’s heard them on speaker phone, on the computer, walking through the halls of the school. He walked into his classroom one morning to find Darius at the piano while the girls stood nearby and they sang, and he’s pushed them out of the school in the evenings.

They worked this until it flowed naturally, the rest of the chorus backing them up, until the lyrics haunted and rang out. All for this moment, here at Rockefeller Center, as one of the top student choirs in the nation.

As the final notes fade into a softly resonating hum, the lights fade as well. Stiles stands in near darkness, the only spot lighting Mimi. She lets the silence stretch for as long as he holds his hand up. When he signals, her voice rings out with one final reverent, extended, “Hallelujah.”

And the stage goes dark.

Stiles slides into the wings, inhaling roughly and trying to force back the sheen of light that dances over his skin. It isn’t enough to be visible from a distance, but he needs control when it’s this dark.

As soon as the lights go up, he joins his kids on the stage, staying to the side as he bows with them.

They are raucous backstage, loud and boisterous, jumping on each other as the are shooed into an area where they won’t disturb the stage. They have time; setting up a fifty piece school band is going to take some time.

“Calm down,” Stiles calls out, and when that doesn’t work, Lily puts her fingers to her lips for a sharp whistle. She smiles sweetly when they all look at her.

“You did great,” Stiles tells them. “In my mind, you won the show. Not that there’s a prize for this—being here is the prize. But you’ve spoiled that audience now and the next time they hear any of those songs, it’s your voices they’ll be remembering. Your performance, your energy, your incredible drive. You’ve brought the light of Beacon to New York!” He puts his hand up, and there are high fives all around.

He turns at one point, and realizes he suddenly has an arm full of teenager as Mimi throws her arms around him, holding on, her cheek pressed to his. She clings, and he feels tears on his shirt. He wraps his arms around her, draws her a little away from the crowd. “Hey,” he says softly. “Hey. You okay?”

“Better than okay.” The words are muffled, spoken against his shoulder. “Dad. You just. You and Papa. You give me everything. Always. You’re there for me, and you encourage me, and some people would hate having their dad for a teacher or a coach but I don’t. I’m so glad I have you, and I’m so glad we came here and that you love me, and you guys are the best fathers a girl could want. I am spoiled forever because no one will ever, ever match up to you.”

Stiles smiles, kisses the top of her head. “Well, we’ve got the best daughter any dads could want, so I guess that works out well for all of us,” he murmurs.

Jackson finds them there, and wraps his arms around them both, holding on for a long moment before Mimi finally wiggles free and goes back to her friends. Jackson ends up holding on to Stiles from behind, his chin on Stiles’s shoulder. “So,” he says. “Any bets on how tonight will go?”

“I think if we can convince them to go to bed before three in the morning we’ll be lucky,” Stiles murmurs in reply. “But it’s okay. It’s just one night, and the only thing on the schedule for tomorrow is the flight home. We can spoil them all for a little bit. They deserve it.”

The Beacon Hills Elite Choir happens to be made up of a great bunch of kids, and Stiles is proud of them. He’s going to make sure they get the kind of reward they deserve after that performance. Tomorrow it’s back on a plane heading for home, and back to work, after all. One night of being spoiled isn’t going to hurt any of them.

**Author's Note:**

> **Some relationship notes:**  
\- Jackson & Malia found out that they are both Hales, and twins  
\- Malia & Stiles are Mimi's biological parents  
\- Jackson & Stiles have raised Mimi since birth  
\- Malia is kind of an absent parent, but loves her daughter  
\- Lydia & Malia are together now  
\- obviously both Lydia and Stiles dated the wrong twins in high school, but they figured it out  
\- Yes, Mimi's middle name is Talis not Talia
> 
> **Some song notes:**
> 
> The medley the choir performs is based around a prompt of Hallelujah and uses six songs.
> 
> \- [the Hallelujah Chorus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sbV7ymNW7c)  
\- [Paramore - Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TYlOXVdVcQ)  
\- [Fallout Boy - Hum Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqFbx6DtLSw)  
\- [Panic! At the Disco - Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxYyHHR0Q1c)  
\- [Andy Grammer - Good to be Alive (Hallelujah)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDu93pdyBDE)  
\- [Pentatonix - Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRP8d7hhpoQ)
> 
> You can find me (mostly silent) on Tumblr as [tryslora](http://tryslora.tumblr.com) and on Pillowfort as [tryslora](https://www.pillowfort.io/tryslora). I also write original fiction! If you like my fic, you might like my original twice-weekly series [Welcome to PHU](http://welcometophu.tumblr.com) (also mirroring on Pillowfort at [Welcome to PHU](https://www.pillowfort.io/community/WelcomeToPHU)).


End file.
